All Fall Down - Continued
by GTPLiquid
Summary: A story adding more detail and an epilogue to the 2000 two part episode All Fall Down, where Deakin, Daley and Holmes leave Sun Hill in the aftermath of the Don Beech Scandal.
1. All Fall Down - Part 3

**All Fall Down - Part 3**

"Up yours, Jack."

And with that, that was the last time DI Chris Deakin ever spoke to DCI Jack Meadows. Deakin stormed out of CID with DS Geoff Daly in tow. Deakin and Daly had lost their jobs at Sun Hill thanks to the Don Beech corruption scandal but Meadows secured his position thanks to a well-connected Commander Campbell at the Yard. But when the Beech scandal exploded, the Complaints Investigation Bureau team led by Commander Ford had stormed the station and CID was torn asunder. Assuming nothing, they were determined to find out if the corruption extended to other officers or solely to DS Beech; to the disdain of the entire relief this meant interviewing every officer who had ever worked with Beech, including PC Jim Carver. That interview had taken place earlier.

Carver was nervously waiting outside one of the interview rooms, wondering whether the absolute truth would exonerate him or only put him under more scrutiny than he was already under. It hadn't been too long since his drinking problem nearly cost him his job; only the intervention of Frank Burnside and Andrew Monroe granted him a reprieve, a second chance to prove his worth. And now, desperately not wanting to make any mistakes or talk his way into trouble, he was about to be grilled about his close working relationship with a corrupt officer suspected of murder. To him this interview was going to feel more like an interrogation.

A DCI Masters appeared from the interview room and invited PC Carver in.

"PC Carver? You can come in now."  
"Okay, Carver. Let's do this", he said quietly to himself before entering.

Inside the interview room, Ford was already sat in his chair going over his notes. Masters went over to the tape recorder to begin interview preparation. Jim was still standing, pacing nervously but very slowly. He thought his heart was going to burst and it hadn't even begun yet.

"Take a seat, PC Carver", said Commander Ford.

Jim sat down in the seat normally reserved for suspects. His big frame slumped into the chair and with a pursed mouth and big brow over his eyes he glared at the two officers who were preparing to interview him. Ford, in his navy blue suit with light coloured shirt, had a slightly contoured face. Although his lips were thin his eyes were piercing with determination. His lilted voice belied the disciplined tone in which he spoke; a man determined to get to the facts if not the truth. Masters, on the other hand, wore a black suit with a rich-coloured blue shirt. He was slightly younger than Ford but with more angular, handsome features. He approached things more condescendingly, in an attempt to impress by the results he could prove. Masters was a DCI crawling his way greasily up the promotion ladder but Ford was a Commander. A Commander might have been the most junior of all the commissioned senior officer ranks, the last one to traditionally be sworn in as a constable and not as a magistrate, but as a Commander it meant that Ford was still the highest-ranking officer to visit Sun Hill in quite some time. Not even Chief Superintendent Brownlow or Borough Commander Mannion could match him. And not only was Ford the highest-ranking officer to visit Sun Hill, he was taking a leading role in an active investigation. The gravity of the situation was not lost on Jim Carver, who took deep breaths as he sat down.

Masters started the tape and sat down at the table with the other two before Ford took the lead.

"Interview with Police Constable Carver, time is 13:54. Conducting the interview on the behalf of CIB are Commander Ford..."  
"And DCI Masters."

There was a pause before Ford began his questioning. Jim took in his surroundings and amongst the dark interview room with a tinge of grey-blue on the walls he could hear the electrical humming from the lights. Normally the human brain would filter this out but this was all Jim could hear and all he could focus on.

"Now, PC Carver, I'm Commander Ford and I'm sure by now you know why we are here and what we want to interview you about. We're investigating the conduct and behaviour of Detective Sergeant Don Beech. I understand that you had a working relationship with him, is that correct?"

Jim's eyes swelled before he began answering.

"Erm, yes. We worked together somewhat closely at times. I... I.. was a member of CID for a number of years and Don Beech was one of my immediate supervisors. There were certainly cases where he and I were the investigating officers"

"And did you have a personal relationship with Don Beech?"

"Personal? Well, yes, we worked together so we obviously knew each oth- I mean... no, not really", Jim said, shaking his head.

"Are you sure about your answer? It's a perfectly simple question."

"Well I'm not sure what you mean by a personal relationship. I mean, I wasn't his keeper if that's what you mean."

"I'm just looking to establish what type of relationship you have with DS Beech. Whether you got on well with him, considered him a friend, perhaps.", Ford suggested.

"We want to know who knew DS Beech and knew him on a level more than a colleague", Masters interjected. Jim's throat twitched as he began answering again.

"Ah, well if you mean did I _like_ him, well... we were working colleagues. Don was a popular guy in the office, I think most of the relief would tell you that but... uh... as to whether we were friends _explicitly_ then... erm, look, it's tough to explain, okay?"

"It's okay, PC Carver. We're not going to crucify or expel anyone simply for knowing DS Beech."

"It's just that, uh.. well I suppose he and I would socialise occasionally after work but **only** on the back of being on duty together."

"You mean you did socialise and work with him in and out of the station?", Masters questioned.

"Look!", Jim began whilst gesturing with his hands by his face, "I worked with Don Beech and so did other people in this nick. If we got a good result, we might go to the pub to celebrate a job well done and if we did that, we usually did it on an entire CID basis. We'd all be there." His growing frustration was obvious.

"PC Carver, we need to know how close DS Beech was to other officers in the station. There's no need to take it so personally", said Ford, trying to reassure Jim.

Jim replied but was continuously failing to keep his cool.

"Well I **wasn't** close to him, was I?! Don was a lone ranger. He preferred operating on his **own**! I was on cases with him but I felt like I was a sandbag rather than a partner! Am I the only one being harassed about this? Why am **I** being singled out? Are you asking anyone else who's ever worked in CID here? Have you tracked down... oh I don't know, Suzi Croft and Alan Woods and given **them** the third degree yet?!"

Masters rolled his eyes and gave a derisive look at Jim but Ford stared at him with astonishing patience.

"PC Carver, you are **not** being singled out as part of our investigation but the reason we were particularly interested in interviewing you is because of all the members of CID who were working when Don Beech transferred to this station in 1995, you along with DI Deakin and DCI Meadows are the ones still working here. **That** is why we are interviewing you, PC Carver. We need the fullest picture we can get."

"If anyone is for the chop", Masters began, "It's going to be them and not you."

Ford did not like Masters' comment but no sold it as though he hadn't heard it. Jim sighed and regained his composure.

"...I'm sorry. It's just been difficult. I hadn't considered that... that you were comparing who's still here from when he started. I haven't worked in CID for two years. I'm sorry but I don't know if there's much else I can tell you."

"Well, you can tell us for example if Don ever... went into business for himself?", Masters proposed.

Jim was dumbfounded as to how to reply. He _knew_ that Beech was an independent mind and not adverse to looking after himself but he only knew it in the same way that you can know that the music you're hearing is a violin and not a fiddle. Everyone's opinion of Beech "sailing close to the wind" was founded in warranted suspicion but not in any provable truth.

"W... went into business for himself? Well, uh... if you mean he bent some rules to close a case I don't think that would be untrue."

Jim swallowed before continuing.

"I'm sure even officers as senior as yourselves are aware that... on occasion... officers have worked around inflexible bureaucracy to achieve the right result."

Masters pressed further.

"So you mean he might have convinced custody sergeants to help with detentions or interviews whilst he was out chasing leads, for example?"

"I can't be sure for certain, Mr Masters", Jim replied. He raised his forearm to his head for a moment. "Like I told you, Don preferred to operate alone. Quite a lot of the time if we were on casework together I'd be gathering coffees or reading newspapers. I wouldn't know quite what he was doing."

Masters nodded.

"I understand, PC Carver. We're not immune to the reality of policing. But if you have suspicions that DS Beech did something _illegal_ or perhaps profited for his own gain, we'd like to know. I believe the phrase is 'wet his beak'?", Masters playfully proposed.

"I'm sorry, sir, but although I worked with DS Beech, even drank with him in the pub on occasion, I can't say that I know anything that much about him. He kept himself to himself. I don't even know what station he was at before here."

Masters stroked his chin. It wasn't quite the answer he was hoping for. Ford was more receptive to Jim's testimony.

"We know you were transferred back into uniform and have not been attached to CID in some time but your insight into Beech's entire tenure at this station could prove invaluable. I don't think there's anything else to discuss right now but should anything leap to mind, constable, you know where you can find me", said Ford, ending the interview.

"Yes, sir. I understand and I'll keep it in mind, sir."

"Interview terminated at... 14:12", confirmed Masters, glancing at his watch.

With a click of the tape recorder Jim's interrogation was over and he sighed again only this time much more deeply.

Jim rose from his chair and readjusted his tie. With Ford busying himself with his papers and tapes Jim began leaving the room but Ford, without looking, gave one last comment to Jim before Jim was back in the corridor and out of suspicion.

"PC Carver... I know what you think of CIB investigations but it's all part of the procedure. And off the record, I can assure you that your colleagues DC Woods and DC Croft have also been interviewed too. All avenues of this investigation are being considered."

Jim glanced back.

"Good to know, sir."


	2. All Fall Down - Part 4

**All Fall Down - Part 4**

"You're kidding. Don Beech?", said a lilted Scottish voice into a telephone. The voice coming from the other end of the phone was talking in a hushed, quiet tone, as though it was under surveillance.

"Don't sound so surprised, Alan. I know they've spoken to you too."

"They? Who's they?"

"CIB. Don't bullshit me around, mate."

It was Jim Carver on the phone to his former Sun Hill CID colleague, Alan Woods. At Jim's instruction, Alan dropped his pretence.

"Okay, Jim, no need to get shirty with me. Tell you the truth, I wasnae surprised; I thought he might've been under investigation sooner. Never minded the bloke personally but... well, you know how he was. Strong-headed and full of himself."

Jim still spoke in hushed tones, almost whispering.

"And what did CIB make of you? You don't think... they'll come back for you?"

"Me? No. Don't forget, Jim, I left Sun Hill in '96. Beech had only been there a year or so. I remember you telling me you left CID what, a year, two years ago? You'll be fine."

Jim found it reassuring to be told by a former colleague, a friend, that he probably wouldn't be under further investigation by CIB. He spoke slightly more confidently as the conversation went on.

"Mmm... I suppose you're right. I had a right meltdown when I knew CIB were in. Tony Stamp tried reassuring me too. It's just that association, you know? You've done alright by being away from it now with another force but I'm still stuck in Sun Hill where Beech has left a trail of disaster."

"You know I spoke to Suzi about this too, Jim? She phoned me, actually."

"Suzi Croft? So they really are trying to cross every T and dot every I. Yeah, she's doing alright at Barnet these days. How're things with Strathclyde Police?"

"Aye, nae too bad. Nice to be on the auld stomping ground. Hoping to make DS soon."

Jim was on his mobile in the corridor at Sun Hill. He had been speaking quietly as it was a personal call whilst on duty. Unbeknownst to him, Inspector Monroe was behind him, walking down the corridor from the other end. Monroe overheard Jim on his phone taking about Strathclyde Police as he approached.

"Ah, is that a work-related call, Jim?", Monroe asked, with a sarcastically quizzical smile.

Jim turned round and his eyes lit up with trepidation.

"Oh erm... just talking to DC Woods, sir. You remember?"

"I do but I think this is the sort of call that can wait until refs, can it not?"

Jim shifted his brow in an acknowledging manner and ended the call.

"Sorry, Alan, have to go. Inspector Monroe is talking to me... Thanks a bunch, mate. Cheers."

Monroe continued towards his office, thanking Jim and instructing him to return to his duties. He had hardly sat down when his office door was being knocked.

"Come in."

It was Detective Inspector Deakin, looking forlorn and isolated.

"Ah, Chris, what can I do for you?", Monroe opened before correcting himself, "Are you not suspended from duty, Chris? I'm not sure what I _can_ do for you?"

Deakin, with his shirt mildly unkempt, made his way to Monroe's desk and stood looking over Monroe.

"You _can_ do something for me, Andrew. Now I know you're a consummate professional but I really wouldn't ask if it wasn't needed. I'm locked out of CID, my office, and all my office related apparel."

"Right."

"And I've just come out of my CIB interview. Andrew, I need a drink."

Monroe had a great relationship with Deakin. He liked Deakin; he got good results and knew the score and between them, they balanced good professional dynamics with uniform and CID in a way that other Inspectors hadn't or had tried to but couldn't. And Deakin was right, Monroe was a consummate professional, and would not be the sort of officer that you would expect to keep alcohol in his own office and instead share one if Conway or Brownlow were offering. But Monroe was always the sort of person who could spring a positively interesting surprise every now and then.

"Of course, Chris, take a seat. You know me, always good in a pinch."

Monroe went to one of the big cabinets to the left of his desk. Behind some folders and excess stationery was a bottle of whiskey.

"Yellowspot okay for you, Chris? I know Mr Meadows and CID prefer Scotch but as a personal preference I've always preferred Irish whiskey myself."

"Anything, Andrew. Thanks."

Monroe poured the whiskey into one glass and handed it to Deakin, with the bottle remaining on the desk.

"Not having one yourself?"

"I can't Chris, sorry. Not when I'm on duty. How was the interview?"

Deakin took a hearty sip and let it pulsate in his mouth for a moment before swallowing.

"Not good. I'm on the hook and I'm the one they'll want to leave hanging. Between you and me, I think I'm finished. What a load of bullshit."

"Do they have anything on you?", Monroe queried.

"Nothing. I haven't done anything wrong but they'll want to crucify someone to make it seem like _**they**_aredoing something. Me and Meadows are gone for sure."

Deakin took another sip of his drink whilst Monroe got up and went to the door. He opened it to see if any sergeants were in the corridor. Right on cue, Sergeant Cryer happened to be passing by.

"Bob, do you have a second?"

"Yes, sir."

"Something slightly delicate; I'm in the middle of a private conversation with someone at the moment. Can you look after things until I'm finished?"

"Of course, sir. May I ask what the issue is, sir?", Bob asked innocently.

Monroe's face turned regretful for a brief moment. He glanced behind him before replying quietly.

"It's DI Deakin. He's just finished his interview with CIB as Don Beech's direct supervisor."

"Oh, I see, sir. Of course, no problem. I can handle things for now."

Sergeant Cryer turned to head towards the CAD room.

"Oh and Bob?"

He glanced back.

"If anything does require Inspector approval... take it to Mr Conway, will you?", Monroe groaned.

Sergeant Cryer nodded.

Meanwhile, Deakin swilled around the dregs in his glass. As he sat down again, Monroe gestured towards Deakin that he could have another. Deakin obliged and did so. With Cryer looking after things for the time being, Monroe unhooked his radio and balanced it upright on the desk in front of him.

"So you really think this is it, Chris?"

"Well, someone's going. I can't believe after 7 years at this station that it's all gone tits up in one fell swoop. I mean, Andrew, you know what it's like, don't you? We spend all day crossing Ts and dotting Is on our constables and sergeants to please the pen-pushers at the Yard but the second one of them makes a cock-up and we're obliged to report it, we're told to forget it because it 'reflects badly on the station and on the force'. We're supposed to keep official records but officially, not the bad records because they're so obsessed with PR."

"Until someone comes looking for them."

"Exactly. That Commander's eyes lit up when I said I had spoken to Beech about his conduct and then the knives in his eyes sharpened when I mentioned that it was a word in his ear and not on paper. I'm instructed to overlook any _official_ discipline for the sake of PR and this obsession about the Met being a "service" and it's my fault that they then can't find anything official. What am _I_ supposed to do?!"

"That's the life of an Inspector, Chris. PCs and Sergeants don't like us because we're their boss and Superintendents and above look down on us like doormats to enforce whatever their flavour of the month policy is. It's the ultimate rock and hard place."

Deakin took a big sip of his drink, aerating it by sucking in the air between his teeth.

"I love being a DI. I've been there, done that, seen it all. I'm _good_ at what I do. I treat my officers fairly. Geoff, Kerry, Danny, Duncan... I've been good to every single one of them."

Monroe exhaled as he approached a difficult question.

"Chris, I've got to ask. What _do_ you think about DS Beech? CIB are obviously here for a reason. They're scouring through this station top to bottom, uniform as well as CID."

Deakin glared straight at Monroe.

"I don't know. Don was old school, preferred to work alone and build his own environment. But it didn't clash with other people's work. Except for Geoff Daly but those two never got along. Everyone else in CID seemed happy to work around him."

"Well, he didn't play things strictly by the book, I don't think", Monroe critiqued.

"No", said Deakin, stroking his chin with increasing realisation, "No he didn't."

There was a pause as Deakin gathered his thoughts.

"This couldn't have come at a worse time, could it? I mean we're only just reeling from John Boulton's dea-"

He stopped and looked straight at Inspector Monroe. His beady eyes piercing straight through the man sitting opposite him, like bullets cutting through sheets of glass.

"Oh Andrew, I just had a horrendous thought. Beech under investigation not long after John was..."

Deakin's head fell straight into his hands and he let out a long groan, almost as though it was a death rattle of his own. Monroe was on the same wavelength and clasped his mouth with his right hand, leaning onto the right armrest of his chair.

The silence seemed to last an eternity.

"Chris... let's think about this."

Deakin didn't respond. He was still clutching his face.

"In your interview, did CIB mention Beech's current status? Did they happen to mention him being in custody, as an explanation for him not being at work?"

The whiskey Deakin had so badly desired was now creating a lump in his throat as though it was trying to return to the bottle. He felt weak, as though he'd suddenly gone limp. The chair in which he was sitting was the only thing keeping him from sinking to the floor. He looked up towards the ceiling.

"No..", he murmured, "...no they did not."

Monroe stammered as he tried in vain to comfort his friend and colleague.

"Well... there's no guarantee... it might not mean..."

Deakin shook his head.

"No. This is it. Finished. I can't believe it. I _**cannot**_believe it."

Suddenly, both men's hearts skipped a beat and both wanted to leap from their chair in surprise as the telephone started ringing. Monroe picked it up carefully, the helical cord wavering as he placed the receiver to his ear. His steely composure when answering belied the tension he felt.

"Inspector Monroe. [...] Yes. [...] No, to my recollection Sierra One is busy at the Elcott Arms, sir. [...] Okay, I'll be upstairs shortly. [...] Okay, Mr Conway. Bye."

As he placed the receiver back onto the telephone, Deakin had already put the whiskey back in the filing cabinet and adjusted his shirt.

"Andrew, I'm sorry for taking up your time. Really, I am. I'll... I'll... clear any misunderstandings with Conway. I just really needed someone to-"

"It's alright, Chris. I, uh... if you have the time, I'd like us to catch up for a proper drink sometime. Professional courtesy", Monroe chimed as he reattached his radio.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that, Andrew. Thanks."

There was a pause before Deakin sharply injertected further.

"Oh and Andrew, let's keep this between us. This, uh... suspicion of ours. I'd rather not have my team hear this from the canteen mafia. I'd like to handle it myself, for whatever responsibilities I have left."

"Yes, Chris. Don't worry. I assure you I won't tell anyone. I'll let you know about that drink, okay?"

"Yep. Sure", Deakin zipped.

Both men left the office in different directions; Monroe to the left to head upstairs, Deakin to the right to the main exit.


End file.
